


Riptide

by Maverick



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 12:43:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1649039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maverick/pseuds/Maverick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John teaches Rodney the fine art of surfing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Riptide

Awesome artwork by **Spaggel**

"I hate the sun. I hate the sand and I'm not overly fond of that much water," Rodney says pointing his thumb toward the ocean. "Yet here I am wearing this ridiculous outfit, exposing myself to all this radiation, so you don't get to accuse me of not trying my hardest."  
  
Actually the morning had gone remarkably well. Rodney picked up how to stand up on the board with the ease of a natural. But that was on land. Once he tried it in the water, things had rapidly gone down hill. So John bullied him like he always did in impossible situations, but obviously that was the wrong tactic this time. Time for plan B. "Okay, you're right. I'm sorry," John says as he rummages around in the picnic basket he brought. He pulls out what he was looking for. "Here, have a Twinkie."  
  
Folding his arms across his chest, Rodney frowns. He's quite the sight sitting on his knees in the sand, his hair wet, his dark blue wetsuit zipped up to the the very top, all the while sporting a petulant frown in stark contrast to his sun kissed cheeks. "Have you confused me with Ronon again? I realize we are just so similar, it's an easy mistake to make. But for the record, I can't be placated with snack cakes."  
  
John cocks an eyebrow. "So you don't want the Twinkie?"  
  
"I didn't say that." Rodney grabs the Twinkie out of John's hand.  
  
"And in case you're wondering, I do know the difference between you and Ronon. He's much more a Double Stuf Oreo type of guy."  
  
Rodney talks around the Twinkie in his mouth. "Do you have those too?"  
  
Smiling, John shakes his head. "No. But way not to be placated there, McKay."  
  
"Just staving off a hyperglycemic incident," Rodney says as he takes a swig of water. "You got anymore?"  
  
John pulls out another Twinkie and passes it to him. "Yes, I've heard that about Twinkies and their highly medicinal properties."  
  
Rodney's mouth is full when he says, "You know, you're kind of an asshole."  
  
John smiles. "Yeah. But you like that about me."  
  
Rodney nods. "Yeah, I do. Let me rest another few minutes and I'll try again."  
  
"Bingo," John thinks. He lays back on the sand, his own wet suit unzipped down to his waist, looking up at the bright blue sky as he waits.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
It takes sixteen more attempts before Rodney makes it upright on the surfboard in the water. And he gets so excited that he promptly falls off.  
  
But he catches the next wave and stays aloft for a few seconds more. John's grinning at him from his own board. "We'll make a surfer out of you yet McKay."  
  
"Yes, one of my life goals for sure. Might even replace Nobel Prize for Physics as numero uno."  
  
Paddling until he's next to Rodney, John floats on his board and nudges the other man's shoulder with his hand. "Admit it, you're having fun."  
  
"Maybe just a little," Rodney says before he paddles headfirst into the next wave.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Rodney crawls out of the ocean on his hands and knees and collapses face down on the sand.  
  
John grabs Rodney's board from where it washed up on shore and sets it in the sand with his own. He double times his way to Rodney's side. "Hey, buddy, you okay there?" he asks as he turns Rodney over onto his back.  
  
Rodney coughs up and spits out some water before answering. "Give me a minute and I'll be fine."  
  
"Okay," John says suddenly feeling awkward. He shouldn't have pushed so hard for this. Rodney's too important to the expedition, too important to him, to risk for something so trivial as surfing. "You did great out there Rodney. You rode that wave until the end, but I'll understand if you want to stop now."  
  
Rodney leans up on his elbows. "Are you kidding? Did you see me? I was amazing! I totally owned that wave. Okay, the ungraceful flop and mouth full of water at the end wasn't perfect, but why would I stop now?"  
  
John's at a loss for words. He should know better than to underestimate Rodney's resilience. And if Rodney didn't really want to be here, he wouldn't be. He starts then stops before he blurts out, "I just thought you might be tired."  
  
"You've met me right? You'll know when I'm tired."  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
They go for three more runs before Rodney's ready to call it a day. They're both sprawled out on the sand trying to catch their breath while the setting sun casts shadows across the water.  
  
"You were right," Rodney says.  
  
"Right?"  
  
"This *was* just what I needed. Thank you."  
  
John turns to face Rodney, propping his head up on his hand. "You're thanking me?"  
  
"Don't let it go to your head. I'll blame it on the heatstroke tomorrow."  
  
"Well, you'd be cooler if you'd unzip that thing a little," John says, pointing to Rodney's wetsuit. "The sun's almost down. Radiation levels have to be within an acceptable range now."  
  
"Mock me all you want, but it'll be me bringing you Jell-O in the hospital while you get treatment for skin cancer."  
  
"Aww, McKay. You'd bring me Jell-O, I'm touched." And John really is even if he's doing his best to play it off.  
  
Rodney flushes and John's pretty sure it doesn't have anything to do with the sun. "Yes, well...we'll both probably die horribly, long before that ever happens."  
  
"Your optimism knows no bounds," John says with a wry smile. "And seriously," he reaches over for the zipper on Rodney's wetsuit and pulls down, exposing Rodney's chest. "You'll feel better with that open."  
  
Rodney stills as their eyes meet, and then his hand covers John's where's it's sitting on Rodney's stomach, fingertips ghosting under the edge of the suit and something shifts-- time, space, John's not really sure-- all he knows is that he has to kiss Rodney.  
  
Leaning over, he brushes his lips against Rodney's, hesitant at first and then with more confidence as Rodney's mouth opens for him.  
  
"Oh thank God," Rodney says before wrapping his arms around John's torso, one hand finding purchase in John's hair, the other slipping inside the back of his wetsuit. And then Rodney's mouth is on his, nothing hesitant at all in Rodney's actions and John sees stars.  
  
Rodney kisses like he talks, John decides. Fast, with purpose, and like he has no need to ever come up for air. But best of all, each kiss is accompanied by little happy sounds in the back of his throat that John's only heard when Rodney's been excited about some theory or ancient device. John could grow addicted to being the cause of those sounds. Of course, he could also grow addicted to the way Rodney's wide hand is sliding around his hip and dipping into the front of his unzipped wetsuit.  
  
Swinging his leg over Rodney's waist so he's straddling him, John sits up, pulling Rodney with him so he can skin Rodney out of the top of the wetsuit. He reaches over to the picnic basket where Rodney had set his homemade sunscreen earlier and grabs the canister. Applying a generous amount to both hands, he slips his slick fingers underneath the neoprene and slowly peels the suit off of Rodney.  
  
Rodney's not known for his patience and this instance is no different. He hurriedly tries to pull his arms out of the suit, only to get stuck. John laughs against his ear. "How about we save the bondage for next time?"  
  
"Get me out of this thing," Rodney says, his eyes dilated with lust.  
  
John coats his fingers with more sunscreen and shimmies his hand down into the arm of the suit, until his arm is flush against Rodney's. He slathers Rodney's wrist and hand and pulls it free before repeating the procedure on the other side.  
  
Once his arms are free, Rodney pounces. He pushes John back against the sand and climbs on top of him, his hands and mouth are everywhere. John's seen Rodney excited before but he's never been the focus of that intensity. He's not sure he'll ever be able to live without it now.  
  
John slides one hand into the front of Rodney's wetsuit, covering his cock and balls, as he uses the other to pull the wetsuit down over Rodney's hips and ass. He wraps his palm around Rodney's cock, slowing striping up and down the shaft as his other hand cups Rodney's firm ass.  
  
"Off, off, off," Rodney's voice is muffled against John's neck as he multitasks sucking on that neck and pulling at John's wetsuit. That's an order John is more than happy to oblige. He flips Rodney over onto his back and shimmies out of his own suit, freeing his erection before he settles between Rodney's thighs. Leaning down, John licks a path along Rodney's jaw before kissing him again."  
  
Opening his mouth to John, Rodney slips his tongue inside as he grabs John's ass, pulling him against him. The first touch of cock against cock is so electric, that that alone is almost enough to make John come. Sliding his still slick hand down between them, John aligns their cocks and rocks forward and back.  
  
Rodney meets him thrust for thrust, his mouth never leaving John's except to take in gulps of air. It doesn't take long until they're both cresting the wave and shooting against their stomachs. It's messy and quick, but John's never felt anything so right since his first solo flight. He lets himself get lost in the rhythm of Rodney's heart beating against his own as he rolls over, settling on his back. He pulls Rodney tight against him.  
  
"Okay, so maybe *that* was worth a little radiation exposure," Rodney says, soft and sleepy against John's neck before nodding off, the surfing and the sex catching up with him. John hooks his arm around Rodney's shoulders, his fingers sweeping up and down Rodney's back in time with the ebb and flow of the ocean.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
John loves to fly and he loves to surf, he knows the dangers that come with both. He's even willing to admit that the danger is part of the allure. However, Rodney McKay was not a hazard he'd remotely seen coming. McKay's obnoxious, rude, arrogant and so totally not the type of person John's ever found attractive before. But even from the beginning, John had seen that underneath all that bravado was a man willing to die for his teammates, a man willing to die trying to save countless others and John knows what it's like to be willing to make that sacrifice. He knows the true measure of that man and how rare a trait that really is.  
  
But what surprises John most of all is how at ease he is in Rodney's company. John's spent his life-- and let's face it, his career-- wearing an easy grin that showcased a nonchalant demeanor that's about as real as the shadow tricks the Wraith play. Rodney's always seen through that facade, has always been immune to it. Rodney is one of the very few people that can actually make John angry. He's also probably the only one who can make him happy as well. And maybe that's what scares John most of all. Rodney's a force unlike any other.  
  
They always say that the best way to survive rip currents is to not fight against them, but to follow their path and eventually you'll be able to work your way back to shore, and John knows that advice is sound. But what they don't tell you is that it's human nature to fight against anything that's trying to pull you under and many times it's that instinct for survival that will get you killed. Sometimes you just have to surrender and that's the hardest lesson of all.  
  
John's pulled out of his thoughts when Rodney bolts awake beside him. He tightens his arm around Rodney, stroking his fingers along his neck.  
  
Rodney tilts his head upward and turns toward John, water still glistening off his eye lashes. "For the record, I am never *ever* going to stop complaining about the myriad of places on and in my body that sand is now embedded."  
  
"What's a little sand McKay? Where's your sense of adventure?" John asks, raising his eyebrow.  
  
Rodney smacks his head. He's laughing as he rolls over and straddles John's torso. He smiles at John, wide and indulgent, like for this moment in time he is truly happy. Or at least that's what it looks like to John before Rodney leans down to kiss him.  
  
John arches upward into Rodney's kiss, his lips curled into what he is sure is a mirrored smile. This may be the worst idea ever, but John's never let his head rule his heart. Maybe it's not that hard to surrender after all because he just closes his eyes and lets himself drown in Rodney, confident that they'll find their way back home together.  
  



End file.
